


War|Peace

by Tyloric



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:24:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyloric/pseuds/Tyloric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His summoner has a question. Pantheon isn't sure he has an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War|Peace

**Author's Note:**

> I'm the first to admit that my knowledge of LoL lore is sketchy at best. There are probably mistakes, and I also took several creative liberties. For example: this story operates under the premise that Champions have quarters they stay in the day before a match. Also, I modified both Pantheon's and Leona's lore to fit my needs, so you might need to suspend your beliefs there.
> 
> I also have no idea if I did justice to everyone's personalities. Here's hoping.

“What do you fight for, Pantheon?” His summoner asked suddenly.   
  
“Fight for?” Pantheon echoed disinterestedly as he ran a stone across the head of his spear, making sure it sharp for tomorrow’s match.  
  
The robed man smacked his lips. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand the question.”  
  
He wasn’t pretending. “It’s a stupid question,” Pantheon replied instead.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“I don’t need something to fight for.”  
  
There was a laugh, sarcasting and grating. “You’re a terrible liar.”   
  
He’s wasn’t lying. “What are you going on about?” He spat venomously, turning to face the summoner. “These are pointless questions.”  
  
The man hummed. “I’ve been your summoner for quite some time now, Pantheon. But we’ve never really talked. Why is that?”  
  
“Because there is nothing to talk about,” he said firmly, turning back to his task.  
  
“I don’t understand you,” came the disappointed reply.  
  
Pantheon wasn’t surprised; his summoner was considerably younger than most of the other champion capable summoners in the League. Certainly not a boy, but not quite a man either. Both irritatingly optimistic and terrifyingly powerful.  
  
A tense silence fell between the two, the only sound being the metallic ring of stone sliding against metal.  
  
“I fight for peace,” the summoner announced after a while.  
  
“Must you continue to pester me, Wendel?” Pantheon groaned. “Shouldn’t you be off... meditating or some such thing?”  
  
Wendel had the gall to look amused. “Meditate? Is that the best you can do?”   
  
“Bah,” he spat, adding after a moment, “Peace is a child’s fantasy. There is no such thing.”  
  
The summoner seemed to consider that for a moment. “Maybe. Maybe not. Who can say for certain?”  
  
“There has never been peace in Runeterra.”  
  
“Exactly. We’re long overdue, don’t you think?” Wendel replied brightly.   
  
“You’re delusional.”  
  
“And you’re depressing. Count yourself lucky I like you anyway.”  
  
“I’m honored. Truly,” Pantheon replied with a roll of his eyes.  
  
But now the seed had been planted, and Pantheon found that he did not have an answer. He fought because he was taught to; he was trained to. The Rakkor were warriors by nature, Pantheon himself having once felled an entire troop of Demacian soldiers on his own.  
  
That still didn’t stop that seed from blossoming into doubt in the far reaches of his thoughts.  
  
“You really don’t know, do you?” Wendel asked, frowning. When Pantheon threw him a sharp look, he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not in your head, I know you hate that. You’re just not particularly difficult to read.”  
  
His eyes narrowed into a glare. “Why would you choose the eve before a battle to address such things? Are you deliberately attempting to compromise my state of mind?”   
  
“Aha!” Wendel pointed at him accusingly. “So I’m right.”   
  
“War is an artform, my reason for being. I am Rakkor. What use do I have for _peace?”_ Pantheon spat as if the word tasted wrong.  
  
Wendel frowned again. “Now that truly is depressing. You must be quite lonely if you don’t know why you fight.”   
  
“You know nothing.”  
  
“I agree! So explain it to me.”  
  
He couldn’t. “I’m leaving,” he growled and stormed out of the room, his relic spear in hand.  
  
-  
  
“Leona,” he greeted gruffly, standing behind the threshold of the door as it swung open.  
  
“Pantheon,” she said, eyebrows raised in surprise, before eyeing the spear in his hand.  
  
Pantheon followed her gaze and flipped the spear over so that its hilt rested on the ground, holding it at ease. “What are you doing here?” Leona asked warily.   
  
He hesitated for a moment before replying, “I need to speak with you.”  
  
She watched him, her eyes scanning him from head to toe, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Eventually she stepped to the side to allow him in. Pantheon nodded his head in thanks before stepping inside.   
  
Shutting the door behind him, Leona walked towards a small table with two chairs, where a sword, rag and polish were resting. Outwardly, Patheon gave away nothing, but he couldn’t deny the small swell of pride that tightened his chest.  
  
“What can I do for you?” She asked. Pantheon made a move to sit when Leona caught his gaze, her eyes flicking towards his relic. He leaned his spear against the wall; close enough that could get to it easily, but far enough that Leona would not consider it a danger. He held no illusion that she would not cut him down if threatened.   
  
Luckily, that was not Pantheon’s intention.   
  
“I... have a question,” he said uncertainly.   
  
“Oh?” She replied, running thick cloth along the length of her blade.  
  
“I...” He trailed off.  
  
His hesitance is what finally grabbed Leona’s attention. “What’s gotten into you?”  
  
“Can I still consider you a friend?” Pantheon asked.   
  
She straightened in her seat. “I... believe that is up to you.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow. “It is?”  
  
Leona shrugged then, resuming her task. “I’ve never held a grudge against you for being who you are.”  
  
Pantheon tried to not let his surprise show. “After all that happened...?”  
  
“That was all a long time ago, Pantheon,” she said, her lips quirking up a bit. “I’m still alive, after all.” Leona looked back up at him. “Why the sudden interest?”  
  
He crossed his arms and tilted his head so he didn’t have to look her in the eye. “I’ve been thinking.”  
  
“Does it hurt?” She asked without missing a beat.  
  
“Shove it,” he snarled.  
  
“Forgive me,” she laughed. “Continue.”   
  
“I’ve been _thinking...”_ Pantheon started again pointedly. “And...”   
  
“And?” Leona coaxed when he didn’t continue.   
  
The words were suddenly caught in his throat, like they were refusing to be spoken. Warriors do not question themselves; warriors do not have doubts; warriors know only their duty.  
  
“Why do you fight?” He asked with a strained voice, keeping his head tilted so he that could only see the table.  
  
“Oh,” Leona said, surprised. “You really have been thinking.”  
  
Pantheon let out a low groan that rumbled in his chest. “You make it sound as if I am incapable of doing so.”  
  
“I’ve known you since we were children, Pantheon,” She said amusedly. “You’ve never been a particularly deep thinker. You prefer to charge ahead, consequences be damned.”  
  
He made a _hmph_ sound in response but denied nothing.  
  
“As for my reason,” Leona started. “It’s not complicated. I fight to protect those who are cannot protect themselves.”  
  
“That is it?”  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “You were expecting something else?”  
  
Pantheon wasn’t entirely certain what he had been expecting. “I simply thought your reasons would have been more... complicated,” he replied carefully.   
  
Leona smiled. “It’s a weighted question, to be certain. That doesn’t mean the answer has to be particularly complex. Why do _you_ fight?”  
  
Refusing to meet her eyes, Pantheon kept his silence.   
  
“Oh,” Leona said as if she had come to a realization.  
  
“Shut up,” he replied through clenched teeth.  
  
“Finally growing up, are we?” She teased, her eyes twinkling.   
  
Pantheon clenched his fists, dutifully refusing to acknowledge the sudden heat in his cheeks.  
  
“I remember when we were children,” Leona started after a moment of silence, “that you had a dream that did not involve spears or war.”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He replied.   
  
“What was it again?” She tapped her chin as if trying to remember. “It’s on the tip of my tongue. Oh, yes, now I remember; you wanted to be a baker.”  
  
“Foolish,” Pantheon said under his breath. “A fool’s dream.”  
  
Leona carried on as if he had said nothing. “Why did you not pursue it?”  
  
His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “I grew up.”  
  
“Now why would you go and do a thing like that? I think it’s a brilliant goal.”  
  
He shot to his feet. “I learned the ways of the warrior! I learned about honor!”  
  
Leona’s expression turned stony, her eyes making Patheon feel as if he had been stabbed in the gut. “And when I decided to follow a different path, the elders immediately sentenced me to death. As I recall, you were the first to volunteer. Tell me, Pantheon; after all that has happened from then up until now, do you still consider that to be _honorable?”_  
  
The _Yes!_ he had been prepared to shout suddenly caught in his throat as a chill ran down his spine, and he sat, more like fell, back on his chair.   
  
She was right and he knew, and perhaps he always had. “I apologize,” he said quietly, scrubbing his face.  
  
“It’s fine,” Leona replied stiffly. “What brought all of this about anyway?”  
  
“My summoner,” he said after a tense moment. “He asked me why I fight. I did not know what to say.”  
  
“What did your summoner say?”  
  
“He said he fights for peace.”  
  
She nodded her head in approval. “A noble goal.”  
  
“And impossible.”  
  
“Perhaps it is, but is that really reason enough not to try?”  
  
And then there was silence as he digested those words and tried to make sense of them. It stretched on so long that Pantheon eventually excuse himself.  
  
“Remember, old friend. It doesn’t have to be a complicated answer.”  
  
He nodded sharply before leaving.  
  
-  
  
Pantheon did not sleep that night, his mind racing as he struggled to find an answer.  
  
When he finally did, he found that it was indeed quite simple.  
  
-  
  
The first thing Pantheon said to Wendel as they headed towards the summoning platform was, “I found my answer.”  
  
Wendel’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh?”  
  
He waited a moment before saying anything else. “Freshly baked bread.”  
  
The summoner blinked at him, his face blank, before offering a crooked smile. “A fine reason.”  
  
For the first time ever, he and Pantheon were in agreement.


End file.
